


please don't forget me.

by o0JayWolf0o



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Angst, Anorexia, Character Death, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Like, M/M, Medication, More stuff, Sleepy Cuddles, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, everyones out of character and i hate me too for it, happiness, pure angst. literally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-16 05:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13047906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0JayWolf0o/pseuds/o0JayWolf0o
Summary: Karkat's life was never the most enjoyable. He's had ups and downs, though they were downs the majority of the time, until something has him crashing into the pit of depression more than ever and he can't exactly handle it. Until, well, he does.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is a very triggering fanfiction. i will not be tagging each chapter with the triggers, for sake of not spoiling. please check the tags each time i update. if you cannot handle what they are about, _you are advised to stop reading now._ thank you.   
>    
>  tw for the following; _death, suicide, depression, multiple character death, self-harm, and anorexia_   
>  if youve made it this far youre in luck. i get to break your heart   
>  ps. this may be a vent fic but im a-ok

There was something oddly calm about his situation as Karkat Vantas walked down the sidewalk.

It was a humid day, just raining this morning and the sun shining bright. The birds sang and flowers swayed in the light wind, the aroma of pastries filtering from the bakery across from the beach. He decided to stop by and grab a cupcake - chocolate with vanilla icing and brown sprinkles. It was sweet and had vanilla filling, and he relished in the fact that he wouldn’t have to worry about his weight anymore. When he finished the cupcake, he tossed the wrapper in a nearby trash bin before skipping over the sand of the beach.

His school was looming ahead of him, the scent of salty water washing over him as he glanced toward the tall building. He could see the window of his classroom - second floor, third room - and who was peeking out of it, but they were blurry from the glare of the sun. Probably Dave Strider, as he always sits in the window.

When he’d gotten out of bed, though it took a while, he’d gone through his regular routine - brush his hair, his teeth, skipped breakfast, dressed, and then scowled at his bed head he never bothered to fix - before staring at the mirror and deciding that today would be the day he’d end his life. He’d do it at 4:00, right when school released for the day, and maybe someone’d watch him fall into the depths of the river.

It was, surely, a horrible, horrible morbid thing to consider, but at this point, he couldn’t use the excuse of typical teenager edginess and angst. He couldn’t even feel sorry for himself. He was like a walking, talking, lifeless husk, and the only emotion - feeling - he had left was pain. He wanted it gone.

He’d planned this all day. Where he’d do it, when he’d do it, how he’d do it, and what his last words would be. That part was pretty important to him. Sure, nobody’d be around to hear him, but it had always been stuck in his head that he should have meaningful last words. Now that he was about to actually do it, he wasn’t completely certain what they’d be. He figures they’ll come to him, like a cliche movie or something. All he knows is that he won’t jump until he actually says them, and he definitely doesn’t want them to be something along the lines of _“Fuck!”_ or _“Yes, I’d like the chocolate cupcake, please.”_

He hummed as he walked along the beach, not sure of the song and not wanting to find out. Anything he had to find out had the potential to change his decision. His singing, though… it sounded off. He hadn’t sung in about half a sweep - not that he had a reason to, anyway. It had kind of an eerie tone to it, but it wasn’t off key. It was just stiff and forced, like a robotic toy that sang to you when you clicked its head.

He arrived to the steps up, where it lead to the overhang over the river, his humming fading away. There were exactly 39 of them, he'd counted, and he took his time climbing them, counting them once more. When he arrived at the top, he breathed deeply, not scenting anything, not enjoying the breeze, but simple breathing.

He had a sort of nervous excitement in his belly as he stopped at the railing, taking a peek down. This was really, truly it. He’d never be able to have another bad day in his life, and how _happy_ others would be without him? It was truly a win-win situation. Nobody liked mutants like him, especially when they can’t kill him due to federal law. He hated this planet, but at least he wouldn’t be culled or be in danger of death. He supposes that won’t be an issue either. Nobody but himself can kill him.

The timer on his watch ticked. He had 5 minutes until 4:00.

He gripped the railing, pulling one leg over it carefully and setting it down before repeating the same with his other leg. His grip had his knuckles turning white, claws lightly scraping on the metal. Waves crashed on the cliffside, and he almost slipped, heart skipping a beat. A tindrel of terror threatened to overtake him, but he pushed it down under the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He had planned this perfectly. He had eaten a fucking _sweet,_ for God’s sake! He couldn’t back out now.

3:56. He took a deep breath, steadied himself. A tiny, morbid smile crept onto his face, his eyes dull, and he sat down on the railing, idly kicking his legs as he thought about his last words. They had to be something important to him.

3:57. His last words had to be something new - something that hadn’t been said before. He began to think, began to think hard, began to ignore the stir in his gut that told him he needed to _stop_ this. He began to count down from 100, not as a timer, but something to distract himself. He couldn’t afford to change his mind now.

3:58. His breath picked up. Scenes of his friends leaving the school, looking for him, at 4:00, began to form. And that was why he needed to think, needed to focus. And he thought of the perfect thing, the perfect phrase for himself, and he sighed, opening his eyes from where he’d closed them and blankly staring down at the rocks and waves below. His brows creased, and he glanced at the school for a moment. Kids were packing up, ready to leave, from the looks of the movement blurring in each window.

3:59. He took a deep breath again. He was trembling, now, nervous anticipation stirring in his belly.

This was really it. He’d never see light again, would never laugh again, would never again see the face of his crush and never again enjoy the taste of his favorite food after fasting a few days. He’d never have a bath, never be able to snuggle up in bed on a weekend and sleep in, never feel the wind against his face. He’d never feel pain, never cry again, never smile once more or taunt someone on his favorite chatting website. He’d never watch romantic comedies, never sob over novels, not once more have his itty bitty heart broken and be left scarring his wrists in his bathroom with pencil sharpener blades he stole from the supermarket.

The doors to the school opened. A swarm of students spilled from it and, in the front of it, the one and only, Dave Strider. He seemed to be running. Sprinting.

The clock struck four. Karkat’s legs became stone, harder than old gum stuck to the sidewalk on a winter evening, and he gulped. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t will himself to speak, and he began to panic as Dave’s shape came closer and closer. Was he coming _to_ him?

At this point, Karkat had given up on speaking, and anxiety was seeping into his legs, spreading through him until it was not only his knuckles that were pale. He couldn’t will himself to move, couldn’t think clearly as his grip somehow tightened on the railing.

“Karkat!” The faint voice of Dave rung in his ears. It was now or never, really, but Karkat could only think of one thing: _I don’t want to die._ His vision began to quiver as his eyes filled with tears, and he tried to step away from the cliff - but his foot slipped, sending him down with only his arms keeping him from the fall to death.

“Dave!” He choked, blinking tears from his eyes. _I don’t want to die._ “Help me!” _I don’t want to die._ He felt two hands gripping his wrists, hauling him up, and as soon as he could reach his feet scrambled from the edge and sent him onto the concrete on the inside of the railing. _I don’t want to die._ Tears ran down his face and he cupped his face in his hands, curling up in a ball. _I don’t want to die._ His heart was racing, blood rushing so loudly in his ears he almost missed Dave’s speech.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay, alright?” Karkat didn’t respond, only further curling up until he felt a hand at his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay. You’ll be alright, okay?” he murmured. Karkat suspected he was trying to also soothe himself, but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. _I don’t want to die._ He looked up, sniffling, and through his haze, made out Dave’s form. Behind him, a small crowd had gathered, mumbling to themselves. Their voices were distorted, and it was like hearing through murky water, but Dave’s cut through the madness, soft and reassuring. _I don’t want to die._ Dave lowered down until he was sitting next to Karkat, staring worriedly through his shades. “You’ll be okay. You’ll be fine.” He continued to speak to the troll until he was calmed, now only hiccupping into the neck of his sweater.

A significant amount of the crowd from before had left, only a small group of girls gathered around and staring at both Dave and Karkat with concern. _I don’t want to die._ He sniffled, looking up at Dave and wiping the rest of his tears away, his nose red and eyes sore. “Karkat? You with me?” He nodded. _I don’t want to die._ “Do you wanna go home now?”

Karkat thought of his home. He didn’t want his crabdad to know he’d just tried committing suicide, and if he _did_ go home, they’d fight anyway. Slowly, he shook his head, hiccupping. “No.” His voice sounded shattered and wrong, like gravel pouring onto glass.

“Okay. Where’s your stuff?” He pointed by the railing, to his bookbag, which he’d considered discarding. _I don’t want to die._ “And your phone?” He pulled it from his pocket. “Okay. Have you eaten today?” Karkat felt like the world was broken, and he didn’t exactly want to lie. It was too much effort.

He told the truth. “No. I-I’ve had - _hic_ \- one cupcake. Earlier.” He was exhausted. He wasn’t okay. _I don’t want to die._

“Do you wanna come home with me and eat something?” As Dave said this, he pulled his phone out, texting someone, before locking it and shoving into the depths of his hoodie pocket. “You can choose. Anything, okay?”

It dawned on Karkat then that he’d never - _never -_ had Dave be as nice as this. It was kind of freaky, if he were to be honest. Normally, he teased Karkat, or was just plain rude. _I don’t want to die._ He would be lying, though, if he said he didn’t want to go to Dave’s - and not because he _liked_ Dave, of course, because he didn’t - not that much. Sure, he was cute, but he was kind of a jerk. He couldn’t deny, however, the flutter in his stomach when Dave would brush against him in the halls.

So he nodded, feeble and hesitant. The remaining students were long gone, and now it was just Karkat and Dave, one of which who was receiving strange looks from pedestrians. “Okay. Can you text your m- lusus?” He hesitated, before nodding, slowly, and snatching his phone from his pocket.

Sending a quick, “I WON’T BE HOME TONIGHT”, Dave pulled him to his feet. “Won’t your parents be mad?” His voice sounded small and quiet. He didn’t like t.

“Huh? No, Bro’s super chill like that. What do you want to eat? I can’t really afford anything but fast food.” _I don’t want to die._ Karkat shrugged.

“I don’t know. You pick.” He let his hands fall to his pockets, automatically hunching over as he hauled his bookbag to his shoulders.

“Excellent choice!” Dave smiled this crooked way, as if he weren’t used to doing it, before his face once more became expressionless. Karkat followed Dave for a while until they ended up at an unfamiliar restaurant - Diego’s - that served mexican food. His stomach practically _screamed_ as he scented the aura, delicious foods awaiting inside. When asked what he wanted, Karkat answered with nachos because nachos were a guilty pleasure. Dave ordered himself some, too. _I don’t want to die._

They left with full stomachs, Karkat not feeling guilty about eating at all. It was a first. He sipped at a strawberry smoothie, Dave a chocolate, nothing particular on his mind. He’d lightened up significantly while eating, he realized, and wasn’t really thinking about what had happened prior. He felt good. He suspected Dave did, too.

He was led, then, down a few streets he couldn’t hope to remember, laughing with Dave along the way. He was really funny, Karkat realized. Awkward, too. He hadn’t expected the guy to be so gawky, but here he was, stumbling over his words. Somehow, he managed to keep a straight face most of the time.

They arrived at an apartment complex and Dave told him the elevator didn’t work, so they had to run up all the flights of stairs. Apparently, he was on the top floor. He managed to tell Karkat a story about how one time he’d taken a picture of a crow, and, while the polaroid was printing, the same crow had snatched the picture. He’d gotten it back, though.

“I didn’t know you were into photography.” _I don’t want to die._

“Oh, yeah. I’m into a lot of things. Photography, scratching, drawing, collecting dead shit-” Karkat interrupted him.

“Scratching?”

Dave seemed to lighten up as he pulled his apartment key out and unlocked the door. “Oh, yeah. I’ll show you what I mean - and, sorry about the mess.” His apartment was chilly, puppets with plush rumps and long noses scattering the place, weapons in the kitchen. A taller man was sitting on the sofa, kicked back and playing a shitty Skate game - Skate 3, perhaps? There were wires littering the floor, various electronics here and there, posters covering every inch of the walls. He passed by the adult without saying a word, opening the door to his room and leading Karkat in.

His room wasn’t as messy as the living room. He had records and posters and a shelf with dead shit, his room still having a lot of electronics in it. His closet was full of apple juice and takeout boxes, which was weird, but he didn’t question it. Two katanas were on the wall. _I don’t want to die._

“So these are my turntables. Bro has better ones, but these are pretty cool too. My vinyls are in the closet but I’m just gonna use these. Basically, though, scratching is like.. Taking a beat, and - you know those movies where they have shitty rave music with something that sounds like car tires going over it? That’s what scratching is. I do the digital kind, so I can… Hold on, this is probably, like, super fucking confusing.” It wasn’t, for the most part. He knew what record scratching is, but wasn’t sure about most of the other shit.

Dave walked over to his turntables, turning them on and testing the record. It made a warping noise, and he chose something on a small monitor and played it. It was.. someone burping?

“Okay, this is, like. I take the sample,” he played it again, “and then just do…” He trailed off, fiddling with a knob for a moment before sliding both it and the vinyl record back and forth. It made a weird noise, but Karkat.. was into it? “And basically, I just do that over some music.” He put a sample of a beat on and began to do the same thing he’d been doing before. It was… pretty cool, actually.

“That’s. Wow,” Karkat murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s pretty good, I guess.” Dave huffed, as if laughing without noise.

“I can also mix music, but thats like… It’s harder to explain? I just remix shit.” He continued scratching for a moment before swapping to a new sample and using that. It wasn’t exactly Karkat’s type of music, though he did have a few dubstep songs downloaded, but he enjoyed it. “You wanna try?”

Karkat shrugged, then shook his head. “Not really.”

“What, you don’t like it?” He pouted.

“It’s not that. I’m just tired,” he admitted.

“Oh. Right. You can sleep on my bed if you like,” Dave offered.

“Where will you sleep?”

He shrugged. “I could sleep with you, but if that’s too _gay,_ ” he punctuated with a grin, “I’ll just make a palette on the floor.”

Karkat sighed. “I don’t really give a shit. Just, wake me up when.. I don’t know. I’m tired. I don’t even know what day it is,” he added, much more soft.

He climbed into Dave’s bed after kicking his dirty converse off, wrapping the blanket around himself. Dave made a move to crawl into bed with him, and though red alarm bells went off in his head, he rolled over, offering half of the blanket to Dave and draping it on him. _I don’t want to die._

Dave turned the lights off and slid off his shades. To Karkat, his eyes appeared to be brown, a stark contrast from Karkat’s eyes, currently filling in with the disgusting red color his veins flowed with. He could be wrong, though, as the darkness hid what true color his eyes were.

Karkat didn’t expect to sleep. He really, truly didn’t, and was awake far longer than Dave, who’s breathing evened out about an hour after the lights had been shut off. He didn’t expect to sleep because today he’d tried to kill himself, finally, and failed. Eventually, though, he grew tired, and his eyelids slid shut, the warmth of the room providing a dreamless slumber for him.

_I am not going to die._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter. i was planning on making 3 chapters but i decided to just chop this one up and make it four   
>  not proofread

 

It’s been three years since Karkat Vantas tried to kill himself, and three years since he and Dave got together. Since then, he’s recovered, and with Dave’s unknowing support, he’d stopped his awful habits, flushing his blades so the angry lines that scattered his forearms and thighs were nothing but part of the past. He’d become happier, and had gained weight, so he was healthy, with bright, red eyes now.

It was a nice morning, Karkat decided, when he awoke to Dave’s arms wound around his waist, holding him close. Today, Kanaya, Gamzee, and Sollux, all of who had taken the same college somewhere in Virginia, were going to visit the rest of their friend group, and their plane was landing today. Karkat trilled, stirring Dave from his rest, and their red orbs locked, a smile drawing across the troll’s features. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Dave replied, voice quiet, a murmur, thick with sleep. Karkat rolled out of Dave’s grip, his rumbling from before fading as he pulled on a shirt and some pants, all baggy. 

“Get up, you dork,” Karkat mumbled, stretching to his toes to grab a cereal box on the highest shelf. He wasn’t sure why Dave put them up there, considering he was shorter than Karkat, but mysteries are mysteries. He hauled the full jug of milk from the fridge and poured it into his bowl, shoving a spoon to his bowl and flopping onto the couch. 

“‘Kay,” Dave replied, fastening a belt to his pants and walking into the bathroom. His hair was a mess, and gog if Karkat didn’t want to go over there and ruffle it more. Dave always looked particularly cute in the mornings, his hair a mess and his face flushed and sleepy. “Enjoying your meal, Mr. Vantas?” he called from the bathroom, where he was undoubtedly squirting gel into his hand and slathering it in his hair. 

He looked down at his ‘meal’, a sad bowl of honey buzzards, and spooned some into his mouth. “Yeah, but I wish I had something freshly cooked,” he sighed, loudly, sarcastically, to make sure Dave heard him.

Dave didn’t reply, the sound of his teeth being vigorously scrubbed the only response. He emerged from the bathroom about 5 minutes after Karkat had emptied his bowl and set it in the sink for someone to wash. Since the bathroom was free, Karkat took his time to also brush his teeth and apply deodorant, seething at his hair as he had been for the past 5 years and attempting to fix it to no avail. By the time he’d come back out of the bathroom, Dave had thrown on a shirt and was munching on a granola bar. 

“S’ho, when ‘re we picking up Kanaya, S’hollucks and Gam’she, again?” Dave asked, talking around his food.

“Gross, ugh. Swallow before you talk, dipshit. I think it’s at 11, by the way, so.. an hour?”

“Bluhh,” Dave enunciated, sticking his tongue out, thankfully free of chewed up granola. “An hour?  _ God, _ we’ve gotta go in, like, 30 to get there in time.” 

Karkat rolled his eyes, sipping from the water bottle he’d just stolen from the fridge and snuggling up to Dave. “You’re driving, I drove last time.”

“Aw, man, really?” Dave whined, but he was smiling. “What if I…  _ don’t? _ ” 

“Psh, as if! I don’t even know where the keys are!” Karkat countered, tapping the pockets of his jeans to empathize his point.

“Shit, really? I don’t either,” he groaned. Pushing Karkat’s face (and eliciting a grunt from said Karkat) off of him, he got up and stretched, rummaging behind his pillow for the keys before searching the drawers. “Save me, dearest Karkat, for I have sinned.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean,” Karkat said to himself, eyes trained on the rerun of  _ Teen Titans: GO! _ and trying not to cringe. 

“It means to come help me find the keys, dumbass.”

So they looked for the keys for a while.

When they found them, they ended up going ahead and driving out, arriving to the airport about 5 minutes early and sitting there texting their friends about it. They hadn’t landed, not yet.

The overhead intercom came on as they watched a plane - not their friend’s, mind you - land safely, another one lifting off.  _ “RIC-12 will be delayed due to some technical difficulties. Thank you for your patience.” _

RIC-12 was their friend’s plane, actually, perking the curiosity of the duo waiting for the three to arrive. “Hey!” someone called, a familiar graty woman poking Karkat in the shoulder. “They landed yet?”

Karkat turned to Terezi, shaking his head, and murmuring hi to her, Rose, and Feferi. Terezi had come for Karkat, Karkat had come for Gamzee, Rose had come for Kanaya, and Feferi had come for Sollux. 

“Hey, did you guys know that Feferi doesn’t like peanut butter?” Terezi blurted.

“What?” Karkat grunted.

“Yeah. It’s wild.”

“It sticks to my teeth!” Feferi defended.

“But it tastes so  _ good! _ ” Dave intervened, cocking a brow. “Man, you are weirder than I thought.”

Feferi pouted, though she appeared bemused anyway. 

The intercom buzzed once more.  _ “RIC-12 will be landing shortly. Thank you for your time, and we’re sorry for the issue.” _

A series of whoops and hollers roused from not only their group, but a few other strangers’ as well. They continued talking about the peanut butter incident, Feferi giggling and making puns the whole way, and even Karkat couldn’t cover a smile. Throughout all of this, he held Dave’s hand, feeling safe and lighthearted through it all.

The roar of a plane deafened the group. This, however, wasn’t the ordinary rumbling of a plane’s engine, but instead the screech of metal on metal, cutting through air. Karkat, pausing, confused, glanced out the window.

That had been his mistake.

Quicker than he could process, the plane, a mass of black, curling smoke and bright orange flames racing across the sky, crashed into the ground, creating a loud, deafening  _ bang! _ that had Karkat weak on his knees, tears collecting in his eyes. Screams of terror and petrification rung about him, his hands flying up to his ears but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the carnage.  _ “Gamzee!” _ he cried, the realization dawned on him, and he sobbed, bright red, translucent tears cascading down his face, causing him to hiccup as fear coiled itself in his gut. The world faded away, his eyes locked on the plane, still skidding in halves down the runway until it rocked over and stopped. Flames licked the air hungrily, the smoke only worse now as it billowed in the sky, and he watched as a single figure dragged another body with it, fire engulfing them, before they collapsed. Helicopters flew here and there, police cars fleeting to the scene, officers sprinting to the damage, but all Karkat could recognize was the jade blood on the ground and the twisting horns of the figure that had dragged them there.

He collapsed, the blood in his ears rushing louder than ever.

He couldn’t hear himself scream.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sforry

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Karkat said upon sitting down by the grave. He was only 17, and yet, he held a bottle of beer in his hands as he sat down by the headstone. “You know? I couldn’t have done anything, and this was still my fault. I know it was.”

He took a sip, the alcohol tingling on the way down his throat. It was revolting.

“I guess I have some kind of fucking curse.” His eyes landed on the grave. ‘GAMZEE MAKARA - A BELOVED FRIEND.’ “Anyone I’m around just kind of...” he sighed, red eyes landing on the purple flowers he’d brought. He forgot the name of them. “Gets hurt.”

He took another swig of his drink, pouring the rest straight on the overgrown grass. It’d been a while since his death. If you asked Karkat, he couldn’t tell you. He hasn’t exactly been keeping track since the crash.

He sat there for a while, watching crows caw in the trees. Dave was waiting for him, but he’d said he would stay at the entrance gate for as long as he needed.

Karkat feels bad for that. Dave would be sitting there for a long, long time. But he didn’t know that. 

“Sorry. Not only for causing your death, in whatever fucked up way fate had it set, but for what I’m gonna do next.” He dragged the bottle around in the dirt a bit, holding the neck loosely as he exhaled. He adjusted his coat, thick as it was. It was cold. Autumn.

Sigh. “Fuck,” he choked, but he wouldn’t -  _ couldn’t _ \- let himself cry. So he sucked it up, stood up and brushed the loose dirt from his pants. “Hope wherever you are is nicer than here,” he said, then walked away. Not toward the exit, though. Dave was waiting there. 

Before he had stumbled his way into the graveyard, he’d told Dave a few things - yesterday morning.  _ “You know, Dave. You’re strong, right? You could live without a fuckass like me?” _

_ Dave had scoffed. “Yeah, but damn if it would be hard.” His eyes, shadeless, had flickered to meet Karkat’s. “Why do you ask?” _

_ Shrugged. “Just wanted to know if you could protect me, since I’m such a ‘small bean’ or whatever the fuck your Tumblr shit meant.” _

_ “‘Course I could,” he’d murmured, a smile on his face. It had hurt. It had. _

He trailed over, past the graves. All these dead people, here. He didn’t exactly feel sympathy for them. What made them so special? Did their smile light up the room? Did they have the nicest laugh?  _ Yeah, probably, _ something told him.  _ But nothing beats Gamzee. Sollux. Kanaya. _

He approached the fence, shouldering past a wall of tight-knit bushes, opposite of where Dave would be. One foot, two, he pulled himself right over it, little difficulty hindering him from the task. His arms stung, his legs moreso, from the nights he locked himself up in his closet, a blade his only friend, alcohol running through his veins as he decorated his skin with cuts.

Dave had figured out rather quickly, but nothing he did really helped.

Karkat had resorted to drinking and smoking to help himself deal with the pain of loss. Sometimes, he’d want to crack open something, but then he’d remember Sollux was gone. Sometimes he’d just need a friend, and Gamzee was gone. Sometimes he’d need someone to talk to, and Kanaya was gone.

A hole was in his heart. Hell, if he thought he was depressed before, look at himself now. Every inch of his skin was littered with red slits, his stomach, ankles, anywhere he could reach. He had become blasé to the pain, had started cutting deeper, smoking more, sometimes a pack in one day. 

It was too much. Not even Dave could stop him, now, if he were to be honest.

_ One, two, three, four, five, _ he counted his steps as he walked down the street.

A lot had been going on lately. He hadn’t been fighting with Dave. It made what he was going to do a lot harder. He’d tried to start fights, over nothing, but Dave always was careful with him - not so much he treated him like glass, because Dave didn’t do that, but he was so caring Karkat could never really escalate the fight. Dave would always lure him into bed those nights and have slow sex with him, making him feel safe, nice, but nothing could change the pain in his heart.

Dave healed him. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

Karkat had even begun skipping classes. He wouldn’t be able to focus in class. He would be a distraction - and he’s not saying that to feel sorry for himself, he’s saying it because it was true, and the last few times he’d  _ gone _ to class he’d been sent to the dean for bursting out in class.

Besides. What was left for him to feel sorry for? He was - as he had thought those years ago - an empty, walking husk.

39 stairs, he walked up, not rushed, not slow, just a regular pace. The crash and wail of the waves almost seemed to tell him to turn back, but he did not, just kept a steady pace as he climbed the stairs.

_ “Don’t do this,” _ something said, but he stopped at the top of the stairs and took a deep breath, not nodding, but still sure about himself.

He walked through the crowd, invisible, slipping past bodies until he reached the railing he’d once stood over.

His phone rang. 

He scrambled to get it, knocked out of whatever trance he’d been in. It was Dave.

“Hello?”

_ “Karkat - fuck, Karkat, where are you? I came to check on you and you weren’t there, and - fuck, are you okay?” _

“I uh…” He trailed off, racking his mind for any excuse. “Needed some air.”

_ “Karkat…” _

He stared down at the ocean, brows creased ever so slightly.  _ “Where are you, really?” _

He then looked up to the bright sky, clouds hovering ahead and the sun piercing through them. “The beach.”

_ “The b- ...fuck, don’t move, okay? Please, don’t hang up, don’t do anything dumb ple-” _ but Karkat had had enough - had been thinking too much - and smashed the phone to the concrete, kicking it into the depths below. He didn’t cry, still, as he gripped the railing, pulled one leg carefully over the other.

_ Screeeech! _ A car pulled up - his and Dave’s - and his lover hopped out, shouting, yelling, pleading to Karkat as he furiously scrambled up the 39 stairs Karkat had counted numerous times.

Karkat murmured his last words, eyes closed, before he let go of the rail.

* * *

 

Pain. Regret. Those were the first two things he felt as Karkat connected with the water. A sickening  _ snap! _ and his ankle went limp, his body paralyzed as it was tossed to and fro by the furious, hungry waves. His head broke the water and he breathed in deep, desperate breaths before he was thrown under the devil’s trap once more.

_ Splash! _ A body dropped next to his, gripped his shoulders as he nearly lost consciousness and was dragged along, salty water licking at his clothes. He couldn’t breathe, he was so tired, he wanted to succumb to the feeling of laying still on the bottom of the ocean but he didn’t want to choke any longer.

His vision clouded as he sucked in water, felt it rush down his throat and fear spiked into him.

What happened next, he couldn’t be sure. The last thing he remembered before he could no longer see was the icyness of the water seeping through his skin until it reached his core. His back screamed, ached, burned, and he didn’t know what it was until he was lying flat on sand, two pairs of hands on him and shaking him. 

_ “Wake up… …gotta do this… …come on… …please!”  _ he heard as hands went to his chest, pushing down until he vomited water over himself. Karkat took a deep breath then, opened his eyes and let the water run from him as he stared into familiar eyes. 

“Dave…?” Evidently, two people had jumped after him, because Eridan and Dave were both sopping wet, brows creased so much they were almost kissing. Dave grinned, letting out a broken sound at Karkat gulped air fuirously from the sky.

“Fuck, Karkat,” Dave broke off, voice cracking as water streamed from his eyes. Karkat wasn’t sure if that was because he’d just had a swim or was crying. “It’s gonna be okay, it’ll be okay, alright baby?” Dave murmured, running a hand along Karkat’s cheek.

Karkat didn’t respond. He stared into the sky, breathing, pain gushing through him from his back. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Dave’s relieved grin fell. “What?”

“I’m not gonna make it,” Karkat clarified, voice barely over a whisper. “I broke- I broke something.”

Eridan was pacing along the shore, phone gripped in his hand as he furiously told the police what happened.

“Don’t say that.” Dave’s voice warbled. “Don’t you fucking say you’re gonna die,” he pleaded.

Karkat didn’t want to lie, though. He’d seen enough criminal cases (from his younger days, okay?) to know what was going to happen next.

“I love you,” he murmured, turning his head to Dave’s as the edges of his vision seeped black, the color of death. “ **please don’t forget me.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hope u enjoyed reading this short depressing fic   
>  i dont see enough sadstuck davekat and i really!! needed to make a vent fic bc things are Not Okay atm SO i brought this, inspired by all kats are gray in the dark (which i hopefully have linked in the notes below..,..,.,? idk   
>  anyway ok thanks for being here i really love comments even if theyre like "this story is :) good" or "this story is :) bad" so yeah im gone now

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are very appreciated. i spend hours working on this, so even a simple "this is cool" or "amazing" makes me feel better. thanks.   
>  [ tumblr ](https://o0jaywolf0o.tumblr.com)   
>  [ [x] ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/652886)


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